


Blame the Numbers

by d_sieya



Category: Misfits
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_sieya/pseuds/d_sieya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan starts a fire. Or he thinks so. He’s actually not sure—but if he gets sued he’ll have to kill himself to get out of it, and he’s been trying this new thing where he doesn’t die more than once a month and he’s already fucked <i>that</i> one up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame the Numbers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apiphile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiphile/gifts), [apiphile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiphile/gifts).



> Prompt: “I don't care what happens as long as it's IC and Nathan and Kelly get to AT LEAST KISS. Simon can be involved too. Crack fic is welcome. Crossovers are welcome, including with your original fic if you have any.”

Nathan moaned.

There was no answer.

He moaned again, rolling his eyes back into his head, whirling the taste into his mouth.

“The _fuck_ are you doing, Nathan.”

“Is this not the best pizza you’ve ever had?” he demanded.

Kelly was staring at him, her lip curled in that mixture of affront and disgust she always conveyed so well. Her eyes flickered down to the pepperoni slice in her hand, before taking a bite.

He nodded her along as she chewed (“—that’s right, chew it up, let the juices seep into your mouth feel the _grease_ , Kelly, _feel the grease_ , oh—oh there’s that beautiful bastard of a slice of pepperoni, oh let him just rest a minute on your tongue—”) and then she swallowed.

“Is a’right,” she shrugged.

“All right? _Just_ all right? Hey, you’ve got a G-spot, haven’t you?”

“What you talkin’ abah?!”

“Because I don’t, but if I _did_ ,” he rubbed his stomach as a visual, “ _this pizza_ right here, I feel it would hit the G-spot of my stomach. Gives new meaning to ‘hits the spot,’ eh?” Nathan grinned.

“No.”

“Eh, whatever. _You_ try to find better food around here.”

“Bet ya I can, you’ve got shit taste.” Her mouth quirked up like it did when she thought she was being clever.

Nathan _pfft_ ed, then pushed his chair back to stand up.

“This pizza is like good sex—”

“Shows what kinda sex _you’ve_ had.”

“—ya always need a cig after it,” he finished, ignoring her and with his thumb and pointer finger he pulled out a cigarette, dragging the length of it under his nostrils and inhaling. “Ahh, that’s the good stuff.”

“This be’er not be you leavin’ me wihda bill.” Kelly’s eyes widened. What was odd, because when girls widened their eyes they were usually tryin’ to be all cute and innocent, but she managed to make it look threatening. Actually any set of Kelly's eyes was a bit threatening, so.

“How dare you! I'll have you know that I can be a perfect gentleman!”

“Yah. Now go leave me alone to smoke.”

“I will!”

Giving her one last nod, he made his way to the toilet because it was cold as an old twat outside, and lit up his cigarette. It dangled between his lips as he pissed, puffs of smoke periodically bursting from his lips and flattening out against the mirror.

Who the hell puts a mirror right by the urinals anyway?

The door behind him opened and closed, and the bloke who walked in glanced at him.

“Multitasking. Not just for the ladies,” Nathan remarked. “I've been workin' on smokin', wankin', and shittin' all at once—ya know, the three essentials—but that's more difficult to master.” He zipped up as the guy went into a stall. “Ah, the pizza get to you? She's a fickle fiend, that one. You've got to learn to tame the beast.”

There was no answer.

Sighing, Nathan ran his hands under the tap and dried them against his jeans. There was a noticeable lack of ashtrays, so he smashed the cigarette stub against the mirror and tossed it into the trash can, feeling particularly environmentally friendly as he did so.

 

 

She’s the kind of girl who could queef a handgun and no one would bat an eye. _That_ should have been her power. How is that not her power?

 

 

Nathan meant to __blahblah___ but he was distracted by Kelly’s breasts standing to attention, paying absolutely no mind to anyone else, like they were a pair of the Queen’s Guards and they—

“Ow! Jesus! Okay, okay, I’m goin’.”

He reached to pat her shoulder, but missed by a hair and ended up hitting—

“For _fook’s_ sake, Nathan!”

“Sorry!” He snatched both his hands up, holding them near his head. “That—that was not my fault.” With one finger, still hovering near his left ear, he pointed at her reproachfully, raising his eyebrows in what he hoped was a sincere fashion. “They’re the biggest part o’ you—seriously, throw a stone in your direction and I guarantee it’ll probably hit your... area.”

He lowered his hands to demonstrate this area, but they quickly took their place back by his head again as Kelly advanced on him. She took him by the neck of his shirt, shoving him into a wall so hard he could swear he lost some valuable brain cells. One fist dug into his throat, partially cutting off air, while the other was poised so that the line to his nose would be clean, straight, and brutal—and they both knew he’d do absolute fuck to defend himself.

“Don’t blame me! It’s the math! It’s the math! Blame the numbers!”

“‘F you don’ get movin’ an’ stop talkin’ about my breast, I’mma snap yah neck an’ when y’come to there’ll be dog shat in y’mouth.”

It was so retarted that his power meant his friends could _actually_ kill him and not even feel a little bad.

“Okay, I get it. Let me go, I’ll not say fuck-all about nothin’ on your bod—,” he rerouted, “—about your general... area.”

Kelly held onto him a bit longer, her knuckles pressing into his neck, but she aceeded and let him go. Nathan edged sideways and only relaxed when he was more than am arms-length away.

“Get it fooking done, yeah? There’s no time to dick aroun’,” she spat, crossing her arms most certainly _not_ under her breasts, and most certainly _not_ pushing them up and making ‘em so very tasty—

“A’right, I’m on my way, don’t get your knickers in a wad. I’ll be a back in a few and all’ll be sorted,” he assured her. Then he stuck his hands in his pockets and, whistling a merry tune, went on his way.

Christ. The girl didn’t know a proper compliment if it hit her in the tits. Which it would have. The math and all, you know.


End file.
